Regrets and Memories
by CompassionAndCaring
Summary: Decades later after the fight against Handsome Jack and Hyperion; Zero looks back on all the things he's done. I do not own Borderlands or anything belonging to it! Reviews appreciated! :)


Years of running for miles on end, jumping from great heights, killing mercilessly, and graceful agility caught up to Zero, and he had to pay a price for it. His bones ached and creaked from every move he made and he was painstakingly slow, it was a momentous challenge to do anything, from moving in his favorite chair to simply walking to the porch of his small, quaint house on the edge of a peaceful, lovely town. In spite of his violent, bloody past, he wanted a simple and quiet life. Nobody ever wondered about the old, very frail man who lived in the small house on the far edge of their town.

He spoke normally now, instead of his odd haiku manner. But his voice was very soft and so hoarse almost nobody was able to hear it, but he never repeated himself, for it tired him terribly to even talk in the first place. And he now wore normal clothing, his suit was locked away a long, long time ago, and contrary to what most people thought; he was human. He looked like any generic male would, he was tall (not so much anymore, for his back was bent so he was now average height), he was very thin; like a willow tree, and he had a fine-featured face with short black (now white) hair.

No one knew his real name, so everyone called him "sir". He liked it that way; he didn't know anything about anyone and no one knew anything about him. He sat in a soft armchair, looking at a large window overlooking the town and the crystal blue lake behind it. He seemed at peace, he looked down at his frail, heavily wrinkled hand. Did it really have to come to this? He gripped the arm of the chair tightly; for if he didn't his hand would shake terribly. He sighed and wondered if his old companions were still alive; Axton and Maya were happily married together, Zero was happy for them. He didn't really care for Salvador; their personalities and battle styles clashed all the time, for he was reckless and Zero was careful on the battlefield.

He didn't ever want to become an assassin when he was younger, but his family fed upon money and death, the minute they heard about Pandora; they gave him his suit, a one-way ticket, some money and sent him away.. He wanted something meaningful; like something that can help people. He sort of did that in the end; ending the reign of Handsome Jack, The Warrior and other perils. He grew this odd obsession with challenges, and now his life is filled with challenges that younger people found so easy to do.

He looked at the evening sky; it was full of shimmering purples, pinks, blues, and vivid oranges. He remembered how the sky in Pandora was mundane and not nearly as beautiful here on Eden-5. He attempted at getting out of the armchair, and after several tries; he finally did. His legs flared fiercely with pain, he tightly gripped his cane and walked slowly to the front porch of his house. He sat in his rocking chair, with a pale green blanket on top of his legs. He was so tired, but he knew deeply that he had a few more pain-filled years left to live. He sighed, pain making his chest ache.

He thought about ending his life a long while ago, but quickly ended the thought; he believed suicide was a dishonorable way to go. He was glad the New-U stations didn't have his DNA anymore, so when he died, he wouldn't have to come back constantly in his pain-filled body. He never wanted a family; he preferred being alone. He thought about all the merciless assassinations he had done, he regretted them all. But it was something he could forgive at the same time; the people who really deserved the guilt were the people who gave him the contracts in the first place. He wondered how if he never became an assassin or went to Pandora, if everything would be better or worse. Probably worse, some of the fights he and his friends were in they would have never gotten out of if it hadn't been for him.

He started coughing violently, his whole body shaking horribly. He eventually stopped, it was getting worse. He slowly got up, and went to his bedroom to get his dozens upon dozens of little pills that kept him alive. He found his pills that he was supposed to take a while ago. But with arthritis it was almost impossible to open them. He took them, and went back to the porch. He sat down slowly, it was cold outside. He wrapped the blanket closer around him, he would go back immediately inside, but he was in so much pain from the simple walk from the porch to his bedroom it was exhausting.

He thought about what would happen after he died. No one would remember the very frail, old man who lived at the edge of town. He wanted it that way, he entered this town quietly, and he wanted to leave it the same way. He went to the doctor's office earlier today for an appointment, his body was failing, but he would live for a few more years. He hated being a helpless old man, but at the same time, he liked how he could think back on everything he had ever done if he could remember it; his memory was fading quickly, just a few hours ago he had forgotten where he was and his friend's names when he tried to remember them.

He slowly got up, the blanket wrapped closely around him, he was so cold. A flicker of pain crossed his face as he got up and slowly walked to the living room. He sat in a small, soft chair in front of a fireplace. He loved old ones, where you had to put the wood inside instead of those dumb electric ones. He put wood in, taking a long time to even hold a log up. He remembered carrying things so easily when he was younger.

He sat comfortably, breathing and wheezing at the same time with full effort to catch his breath. He looked to his right, into a small window, the sky clouded over quickly and it was snowing outside. A smiled crossed his heavily lined face. He loved snow, the uniqueness about it and how graceful it fell. He sighed, he was hungry but too tired to get up and eat something.

He closed his eyes, and slowly went to sleep. When he woke up, he would still be there, and still be able to think back on all his regrets and memories.


End file.
